


A Study in Existence

by dazedog (Ayanon)



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, POV Second Person, Surreal, The Void
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-31
Updated: 2017-08-31
Packaged: 2018-12-22 06:58:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11962131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ayanon/pseuds/dazedog
Summary: Your arm is missing again.





	A Study in Existence

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place before my other fanfic, Funny.

Your arm is missing again.  
Faint blue strings have taken its place, glowing in the darkness that surrounds you. They consist of numbers and letters that connect to other lines of code, ever changing, running further along the otherwise empty space. Some stop and disappear after a brief moment, others fade letter by letter into the darkness.  
They are nothing you haven't seen before, but to view them from here is certainly new.  
You are floating, not falling, stuck in one place - if there ever was one to begin with.  
The fact that you are here is both a success and failure.  
You'd write it down if you had pencil and paper.  
  
Reason has always proved itself as your best guide, so you try to take the situation for what it is and simply watch until you know what to do.

 

* * *

  
  
  
The numbers of your left arm have changed once again. Either what is left of your body has moved through this void or your limb has, wherever it is. If it still exists. You feel compelled to try.  
You close your eyes and it feels like falling forward, spinning in your own skull, but when you try to move your left hand it works. There is... Something. You are touching a wall or the ground, some uneven surface. It's the first time you have felt anything since you got here, and it's good.  
You have no arms but a hand. You try to pull your body toward it. Instead you feel like pulling yourself apart, spreading out along the strings. The feeling is akin to nausea, just in a skull-splitting way without actually hurting.  
You let go.

 

* * *

  
  
Your feet have been consumed by the darkness.  
At least pain does not exist here.  
Neither does fear, though the years of working as a scientist had taught you to stay calm even as others panicked.  
You wonder how long it has been since you have seen someone else.  
Loneliness is new to you. 

 

* * *

  
  
The strings must end up somewhere. Maybe you can send part of yourself to your hand. To a time where it can exist. It's a strange idea, but it's better than nothing.  
You close your eyes and concentrate.  
There's no need for legs if you can move by will. There is a humming, a sort of vibration to your right. You take your chance.  
The strings run next to you, through you, and while you hear nothing you can feel them. They drag you along as images of information, of memories, flash before you - not your eyes, your mind. It's too much.  
For a split second you want to raise your arms and struggle so it stops, but you have no limbs. Then it stops dragging you along.  
You open your eyes.  
A crack cuts through the silence. It's been too long since you heard anything, but it's no reason for happiness. The sound was too loud, too close to mean something good.  
Whatever you had seen, the images are blurred now, melting together.  
You hope it doesn't mean your eyes will disappear.

 

* * *

  
  
  
You miscalculated.  
There is nothing.  
No strings, no sound. No time. No You.  
  
A strange calmness takes over as realization dawns. There is no way back. At least not if you want to keep existing.  
You are dead. No, worse than that. Something in-between.  
  
You'd laugh if you had a mouth.

  
  
  
In retrospect you should have asked Sans to assist you. You had deemed it too dangerous - and rightly so - but it would have been a good idea to notify him beforehand.  
You dismiss the thought. You had scoffed at Sans whenever he had lingered in the past for too long, and you would not make the same mistake.  
You do wonder if the time machine might still be working, however. Sans should have tried to reload by now and it quite obviously had no effect. If it broke he would try to fix it, even if he was furious.  
And oh, he had been after learning of the Core's origins. Of course.  
It had not been your intention from the start, either. Back when Asgore had appeared in your laboratory, holding the shambles of a soul - or two - in his shaking hands. He had begged you to save them, and you did. Not in the way either of you had wanted, but it was the best you could have done in such a short amount of time.  
At least that is what you told yourself afterwards.  
Building the Core, the container for this soul, had been worth the cost. Even Asgore had to agree. Without it there would have been no soul left, without your further experiments no electricity, no hope to flee from the Underground. No promises of finding a way to revive his children.  
Sans had disagreed, as usual. Ever the hopeful idealist, ever the first to question you. That's why you liked him.  
Hopefully he would not try to follow you. He had resigned as your assistant, yes, but it hadn't been the first time. It was for his brother, he had told you.  
As long as he continued your work for the Underground you didn't care why he did it.  
  


* * *

 

  
  
These codes must come from somewhere. You have to rewrite them. It's the only way to escape from this place with whatever is left of you.  
  
  
The strings are more than timelines, much more than that. They are commands, memories, data, stretching across the whole Underground, perhaps even the outside world, rewritten with every passing second.  
You had been blind to them before, but everything is clear now.  
It's useless to wonder about how long you have been here.  
  
  
You found your eyes again. You took your hands back. You aren't nowhere but everywhere.

  
  
Still you don't know how to return to the time and space you lived in.  
  
At least you have no need to hurry. Time does not exist. Everything starts at this place, however.  
  
And you would find a way to control it.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Written the day before yesterday after months of UT writing block. This started with the first sentence of this fanfic and I just had to continue this somehow. It's probably the strangest thing I have ever written, but oh well. Please notify me of any mistakes (and tell me if this was too confusing)!


End file.
